So Christmas season has begun. Sara conceives of Santa. That is to say she’s trying to figure out why we’d let an old fat man dressed in red come into our house at night and put surprises under HER tree. She’s decided not to fight it. Presents are presents, this much she’s figured out.

First, down comes the Fall decor. As you can see, in an attempt to spare my precious autumn decorations, I placed them ALL on the mantle, far out of a certain honey-covered 2 year old’s reach. If Christmas didn’t immediately follow Thanksgiving I think I’d go into a deep depression from the lack of decorative what-nots.

Second, Santa arrives in Indy every year via helicopter. I guess we’re just cool that way. He flies onto the front lawn of the Indiana State Museum, and an elf rappels off the roof. It’s very ummm, Christmasy? Well, maybe not so much, but the kids sure had fun.

Then one lazy Tuesday afternoon as Keri and I were lounging around the house, trying to figure out why my washer is spitting water and making jet-like sounds during the spin cycle, Bryce and Sara begged to go see Santa. And I mean hanging on the door and begging. OK, so we asked Sara if she wanted to wear a Christmas dress. YES! What?! OK. We did a trial run in front of our tree. All went well. Onto the mall, where Santa lives. He likes to be near all the plastic crap we buy for our kids. In case he needs back up crap.

This classic-once-in-a-lifetime shot says it all:

Keri and I were inches from their knees and have no idea how they even cropped us out of the picture. The split second their butts hit the strollers, they gleefully waved at Santa and yelled, “BYE BYE SANTA!” with huge grins. Yeah. We’ve decided there is no figuring out this toddler thing. But it occasionally makes for a good laugh.